


The Darkened Chamber

by telepathy



Series: The Castle & The Rose [4]
Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: Comfort, Comforting, Curiosity, Expanded Scenes, F/M, Growing feelings, Missing Scenes, compassion - Freeform, new scene, unlikely feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-10-24 07:27:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10736991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telepathy/pseuds/telepathy
Summary: Belle visits Beast in his sleeping quarters the night of the wolf attack. She comforts him and he...wakes up to it. – New scene added –





	The Darkened Chamber

I sneak into the bedroom late that first night, mind awash with bouts of concern and partial regret. I wasn't wrong for running away but he wasn't right for all the shouting he had done either. 

And now, here in his darkened chamber, I’m…not entirely convinced of why I've come for a visit. Is it to check on his wellbeing, or to satiate a curiosity I feel far too guilty to admit to?

Do I want to see him for his sake or my own? 

I've never come upon…someone like him. I long to know about this new person in my life, long to see more than what he has shown me. Perhaps this is utterly intrusive behavior, given he most assuredly has not offered anything of the sort, but I…I need to understand. With my eyes and my hands. 

Is he a man trapped, or a beast formed in the womb of something sinister and unnameable? 

I'm not afraid of him any longer; when he saved my life he placed his own into that ill-fated dance with danger. Knowingly. How could I fear that which would die for me?

However, I feel as though I deserve to know why. 

Quietly, I close the door behind me, clutching the knob with unsteady hands; I'm struck and suddenly stunted by the sound of heavy, quick breaths being pulled in and forced out. Then came a whimper, as though a canine had been viciously kicked during its slumber. 

I release the rich metal I've been clinging to and go to him; following a faded pathway of yellow candlelight, the dull illumination is both calming and unsettling. It's a sickly sort of light, one placed by the bedside in case a servant needs to tend to him quickly. 

Reaching for the simple candleholder, it's neither ornate nor special. But it's not the talking kind either, and for a moment I'm relieved no one object has found me out just yet. 

He sucks a sharp intake of air just then, and it's followed by a disturbing wince that sends ice straight through my spine. Turning, I look over at his features and a hand covers my mouth; he's visibly wrecked by the pain of his wounds, appearing as if every part of him is overcome by a combat with phantom steel lances. They are continuously running him through and I'm here, frozen, seeing it in real time. It’s…difficult to watch. 

Stood motionless next to his sizable form, my hands shake with the an unfamiliar desire to bring him peace. Despite all he's done, _this_ is not something I'd wish on my greatest enemy. I gaze around the quarters to see if there is anything I can do, any salves or ointments on standby, but there's only a copper bowl full of chilled water and soaking washcloths. 

A growl emanates, tearing me from my silent mission and without thinking, I place a palm onto the center of his chest. His hair – _fur?_ – is soft and warm, a bit too warm, actually. But then again I don't know a single fact about the anatomy of someone like…this. 

I know absolutely nothing about him. 

I keep it there and press slightly; not a pressure meant to hurt him, nor startle him, but to create a place of knowing between the both of us. I know he's in pain, I know it's partly my fault, but I'm here. I'm here for you. 

His breathing starts to settle into a normal rhythm and his head slowly stills itself; it had been shifting from side to side in the fit of things, his horns jaggedly piercing the linen beneath. I imagine he does that frequently to his bedclothes and yet, this mattress doesn’t appear to have been used in recent times. It looks soft and inviting, not as if it’s born the weight for any length of time. 

My stupor is broken when he does something unexpected: his left arm extends from beneath the duvet and his hand covers my own. 

He knows I'm here. 

He knows I’m here and hasn’t tried to pull or push me away, he’s simply…holding my hand. 

I want to lie down beside him and offer more comfort, more human closeness, but that might be misconstrued or even inappropriate given the…situation. Yet, I’ve not thought any of this stay through from beginning to end and my intentions are innocent enough. As they've always been.

So, I do it. 

I remove my soiled boots and step lightly into the darkened side of this frigid space, fully intent on nothing else than helping him. He can't lay here and suffer alone, it's neither just or fair. 

Exhaling, I glimpse plumes of steamed air escape from my lips; it's colder in here than any other lived-in areas of the castle, but given all that thick fur, it's really no wonder. For me though, it's a bit too cold. 

Despite the chill, I don't slip beneath the covers, opting instead to press my side flush against his. It's a mutually beneficial, albeit silent, agreement: I draw warmth from him while reinstating the contact he so clearly needs. 

You see, he had made a sad sort of sound the moment my hand was removed from his fevered breast, his breathing falling back into a shallow and uneven pattern. 

But now I'm here, and he’s…he's exhaling too quietly? 

My head is resting against a wide shoulder, but my fingers wrap themselves around his wrist. It’s done from a place of comfort and intention: I take note of his thready pulse, and it's quickening, almost unkempt-like. But it's his air that worries me – he seems to have stopped breathing altogether. 

Raising my head, I'm immediately met with two strikingly blue, guessing eyes. They're staring down at me, wondering, worrying, blindly confused. I want to laugh but I know in my heart it's very last thing wanted right now. Curious though…

He must have woken up when I moved to where I am now, but opted to say nothing?

"Is this alright?" I ask without knowing what words I was going to employ, but my question felt more like 'are _you_ alright with me, here?'

He remains silent, motionless, before nodding slowly; a small, hardly-visible smile begins to lighten his pained face and I know then that I've made no mistakes in this room tonight. 

I whisper softly, "We'll talk in the morning. You sounded terrible, and I…I didn't think you should be alone."

He squeezes my fingers gently, and it's an act I never comprehended he'd be capable of. Much like him saving my life earlier this evening. 

I suppose we both have hidden ourselves away from one another before now because, well, because what other options had we? 

I am his prisoner in this castle, but not in this moment. He's been held captive by his own actions, and my reactions, but I can choose kindness. I can choose compassion. 

I can show him as much. 

I think I'll stay here, with him. Keep him safe from himself. If only for tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I had this 'comfort scene' with just these two but it's starting to turn into a plot bunny anddd I might chase it. If anything, I have at least another part to this one and a follow up before their bickering bout coming. Thanks for all the amazing love! xx


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